Ethan spent the first morning back searching for Robert Martinez.
The name triggered a memory he'd buried. Six months ago. Late for a meeting. Rushing through an intersection during heavy rain. His expensive sedan versus a delivery van. The crunch of metal. The van spinning out, crashing into a parked car.
Ethan had felt the impact. Knew he'd caused it. But he'd been late, and there were no witnesses in the rain, and his car only had minor damage, and stopping would mean police reports and insurance and time he didn't have.
So he'd driven away.
Never looked back.
Never thought about it again until now.
The system's transgression details were brutal:
[ROBERT MARTINEZ - DETAILED IMPACT ASSESSMENT]
Age: 34
Occupation: Gig economy delivery driver (food, packages, freight)
Injuries from accident: Fractured left wrist, severe whiplash, concussion
Vehicle: Totaled (2008 Honda Civic, his only transportation)
Insurance status: Minimum liability only, no collision coverage
Lost income during recovery: 6 weeks unable to work
Total financial impact: $43,000 (medical bills, vehicle loss, lost wages)
Current status: Working injured, using borrowed vehicle, facing medical debt, chronic pain
Additional consequences:
- Lost premium delivery status due to downtime
- Credit score destroyed by medical collections
- Evicted from apartment (couldn't pay rent during recovery)
- Marriage strained by financial stress
- Developed anxiety around driving
Your hit-and-run destroyed his stability. He has not recovered.
Ethan felt sick reading it.
One moment of selfishness. One decision to prioritize a meeting over someone's wellbeing. And Robert Martinez's entire life had collapsed.
Finding him took most of the day. No social media presence. No permanent address—the eviction had left him bouncing between temporary housing. Finally, Ethan tracked him through gig economy platforms. Robert was still delivering for three different apps, working seventy-hour weeks trying to dig out of debt.
Ethan sent a message through one of the delivery platforms:
Robert, my name is Ethan Monroe. Six months ago, I was involved in an accident with you. I need to speak with you urgently. I want to make things right. Please contact me.
He included his phone number and waited.
***
While waiting, Ethan researched the gig economy.
The articles were damning. Drivers classified as independent contractors, not employees. No health insurance. No workers compensation. No sick days or vacation. Every expense—gas, maintenance, insurance—paid out of pocket.
Algorithms that tracked every minute, penalizing drivers for things beyond their control. Traffic jams. Difficult customers. Bathroom breaks. The constant threat of deactivation for low ratings.
One article featured an interview with a driver who'd had a heart attack mid-delivery. He'd finished the delivery before calling 911 because an incomplete delivery would tank his rating.
Another described drivers working through injuries because missing shifts meant losing income they desperately needed.
This was Robert's world. And Ethan had made it infinitely harder.
His phone rang. Unknown number.
Hello?
A cautious voice: This is Robert Martinez. You said you wanted to talk about the accident.
Ethan's throat tightened. Yes. I was the other driver. The one who hit you and drove away.
Silence. Then: Why are you calling me now? Six months later?
Because I'm trying to make amends for the harm I've caused. I know I can't undo what I did. But I want to help however I can.
Do you know what you did to me? Robert's voice shook. I spent six weeks unable to work. Six weeks with no income. I lost my car. Lost my apartment. My wife almost left me. I'm still paying off medical bills. Still in pain every day. And you just drove away.
I know. I'm sorry. I was selfish and cowardly and I caused you enormous harm. You deserved better.
Sorry doesn't pay my bills.
I know. That's why I want to pay them. All of them. Medical bills, the value of your car, lost wages, everything. And I want to do it without conditions or strings. You don't have to forgive me. You don't have to see me again. Just let me try to repair the financial damage.
More silence. Then: How much are we talking about?
Forty-three thousand dollars. Plus whatever I'm missing. Send me the bills and I'll pay them.
Robert laughed—a bitter, disbelieving sound. You're serious.
Completely serious. I destroyed your financial stability. The least I can do is restore it.
Why now? Robert asked again. What changed?
Honestly? I experienced what it's like to struggle. To work until your body breaks. To be invisible to people who have power over your life. It changed me.
A long pause. Then: I want to meet you. Face to face. Before I accept anything.
***
They met at a coffee shop the next morning.
Robert arrived in a beat-up Honda Accord with a cracked windshield and bumper held on with zip ties. He walked with a slight limp—residual pain from the accident. His left wrist was wrapped in a brace.
He was younger than Ethan expected. Tired eyes. The worn look of someone grinding through life on insufficient sleep.
They sat at a corner table. Robert ordered coffee. Ethan paid.
You look different than I imagined, Robert said. I pictured someone older. More obviously wealthy.
I was driving a sixty-thousand-dollar car. That should have been a clue.
Robert sipped his coffee. Tell me what happened. From your perspective.
Ethan told the truth. The rain. The rush. The impact. The decision to drive away. The months of not thinking about it until the system forced him to confront what he'd done.
Robert listened without interrupting.
When Ethan finished, Robert set down his cup.
The worst part wasn't the accident itself. Things happen. But you left. You knew you'd hit me and you just left. Like I didn't matter. Like my life didn't count.
You're right. And I can't defend it. There's no excuse.
Do you know what it's like to work gig economy? Robert asked. Every delivery is a gamble. Every rating matters. One bad review can tank your acceptance of orders. One accident can end everything. I was already living on the edge. You pushed me over.
He pulled out his phone and showed Ethan screenshots. Medical bills in collections. Credit card statements maxed out. Eviction notices. Messages from his wife about not being able to afford groceries.
This is what you did, Robert said quietly. This is the harm.
Ethan looked at each image, forcing himself to see it. To understand.
I'm sorry, Robert. Genuinely. And I want to fix this.
Robert put his phone away. The money would help. God knows I need it. But what I really want to know is if you understand. If you actually get what you did to me.
I'm trying to, Ethan said. In a few days, I'm going to experience your life. What it's like to work gig economy. To struggle with injuries and debt and the constant fear of falling further. The system is making me learn.
Robert's eyes narrowed. The system?
Ethan hesitated, then told him. About the empathy system. About experiencing Jamie's life. About Chen Wei. About the fifty-eight careers he had to complete.
Robert listened with growing incredulity.
That's insane.
I know.
But it explains why you're different. Why you actually seem to care now.
I do care. I should have cared six months ago.
Robert studied him for a long moment. Alright. I'll let you help. Pay the bills. Give me enough to get a decent car. Maybe enough to take a few days off without panicking. But I have one condition.
Name it.
When you experience my life, when the system puts you in my shoes, I want you to remember this conversation. I want you to know that I'm a real person. Not just a lesson. Not just a transgression to check off your list.
I will. I promise.
***
Over the next two days, Ethan transferred funds to Robert.
Forty-three thousand for the immediate debts. Another ten thousand for a reliable used car. Five thousand as a cushion for emergencies.
Robert sent a photo of himself at a car dealership, standing next to a certified pre-owned Toyota Camry. The smile on his face was genuine.
First time I've felt secure in six months. Thank you.
The system pulsed:
[OPTIONAL PREPARATION TASK COMPLETED]
Located and made amends with Robert Martinez: +40 Readiness Points
Monetary compensation with genuine understanding: +25 Points
Emotional connection and acknowledgment: +20 Points
Current Readiness: 85/100
Note: Robert Martinez's circumstances significantly improved. Career assignment difficulty reduced. However, you will experience his life at its worst to understand the full impact of your actions.
Ethan spent the remaining time researching gig economy work.
He read forums where drivers shared horror stories. Eighteen-hour shifts. Injuries from car accidents with no compensation. Customers who reported food stolen to get refunds, costing drivers their jobs. Algorithms that deactivated accounts without explanation or appeals.
He read about drivers sleeping in their cars between shifts to maximize earnings. About people working through illness because they couldn't afford a sick day. About the constant stress of ratings and metrics and being one bad interaction away from losing everything.
Robert's world was precarious in ways Ethan had never imagined.
***
The night before the assignment, Ethan visited his mother.
Margaret was in better spirits. He'd arranged her transfer to a nicer facility with better care. She had a private room now. Better food. Activities she actually enjoyed.
You've been different lately, she said as they played cards. Lighter somehow. Even though I know you're struggling with something.
I'm trying to become a better person, Mom.
You were always a good person, sweetheart.
No, Ethan said gently. I wasn't. I was selfish and cruel and I hurt people. But I'm trying to change.
Margaret reached across and squeezed his hand. Whatever you're going through, I'm proud of you. You're facing it instead of running away.
I don't have a choice.
Everyone has a choice, Ethan. You could have stayed the person you were. But you didn't. That takes courage.
He kissed her forehead when visiting hours ended. Tomorrow he'd wake up as Robert Martinez. Would experience the grinding anxiety of gig economy survival. Would feel the injuries he'd caused. Would understand, fully, what his cowardice had cost.
But tonight, he sat with his mother and felt grateful for the chance to change.
***
Back home, Ethan's phone showed the final countdown:
[CAREER 3: ROBERT MARTINEZ BEGINNING IN 4 HOURS]
You will experience one week of gig economy delivery work in Robert's body during the weeks following the accident.
You will understand:
- Working through injury
- Financial desperation
- The precarity of algorithmic employment
- The physical and psychological toll of survival work
- The fear you caused and never witnessed
Current Readiness: 100/100
Sleep now.
When you wake, you will be Robert Martinez.
Ethan lay in bed and thought about Robert's condition. One requirement: Remember I'm a real person.
He would remember. Every career, every person—they were all real. All deserving of dignity and acknowledgment.
That was the lesson the system kept teaching him.
And finally, he was learning.
The countdown hit zero.
Darkness fell.
When Ethan opened his eyes again, pain greeted him.
Not the dull ache of Chen's aging body. This was sharp. Fresh. His left wrist throbbed in its brace. His neck was stiff from whiplash. His head pounded with post-concussion symptoms.
Robert Martinez's body.
Six weeks after the accident.
The alarm on his phone showed 4:37 AM.
First delivery shift started at 5:00.
Ethan sat up in an unfamiliar bedroom. Small apartment. His wife—Robert's wife, Maria—slept beside him, exhausted.
On the nightstand sat three phones. Each running a different delivery app. Each pinging with notifications.
New orders available. Accept now or lose priority.
Ethan's—Robert's—body screamed in protest as he forced himself out of bed.
The deliveries wouldn't wait.
The bills wouldn't pay themselves.
And the driver who'd destroyed his life was never coming back to make it right.
Or so Robert believed.
Ethan grabbed the phones and headed for the borrowed car.
Day one of Career 3 had begun.